


His Story

by Onetimerequester



Category: The Adventures of Puss in Boots (Cartoon)
Genre: 1st season debut based, 3rd fic and beyond!, A character study of sorts, Adventures of Puss in Boots, El Guante Blanco-centric, Gen, I will aid this tag, Review plz, This author should learn how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 01:12:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11567211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onetimerequester/pseuds/Onetimerequester
Summary: An El Guante Blanco fic I have been meaning to post. A small character study styled one. Enjoy!





	His Story

His story was filled with many twists and turns, ups and downs, but the greatest chapter began in the desert. Stumbling upon a young flame haired boy in the dust.  
He nearly passed him by had it not been for those ridiculous boots catching his eye.  
Little did he know how major that moment would be.

The boy was brash and headstrong, so much like him that it didn't surprise him when the other called him maestro. He taught him everything he knew: from sword fighting; to survival; to spinning through the air (don't ask it was fun). Eventually he taught all he could and departed from his Ginger as the boy began his own quest as a young man.  
He watched him go with a heart as bright as the departing ones hair. Time seemed to change after that.

Overtime he noticed his body turn frail, his eyes dulled, his hand shook. He winced at exertion and shivered at night. It took a long time for his greying fur to catch up with him in his reflection.  
He was growing old.  
Weakened and sorrowful he followed rumours of a town where he could permanently rest.

He didn't except the journey to take so much out of him, but here he was. After collapsing at the gates. He wanted to retire, have some time left in semi-luxury before his clock stopped.  
He didn't except Ginger to be there. See him in this haggard state, hardly able to lift himself up.  
He didn't expect him to be still so headstrong and adamant to help. It was a pleasant surprise.

The fountains were a strange revelation, so many in one woods.  
Plus the fire-breathing flying cat was pretty unusual.  
Seeing Ginger as he was now was unbelievable, tactics bizarre to him. Hiding not fighting?!  
New times were crazy.

It was amusing to see the changes on others, worrying to, as any one could have undesirable consequences. He was stumped at some of the labels having to be made (fountain of invisible spiders for one). Then they found it. The fountain of youth. The ladle grazed his lips and the surge of energy was dazzling.  
Then came everything else.

The euphoria of being free of pain was immense. No creak to his bone or twinges to his muscles.  
He shone like the finest raven, his hand gleaming white.  
He could run, he could climb and jump and spin; he was free!  
He felt... he felt like a king!

Then the sphinx came again. Rage at trickery burning sharp. Taking allies as damsels in its claws.  
He knew what had to be done. It was clear as the sky above them.  
They would fight and they would win.  
His heart sang at the chance to brawl again, even if his student had grown cautious in years apart.

Climbing was amazing, claws digging into grooves and body working like clockwork without rust was fantastic. Plus catching up with Ginger, seeing him scrunch his face at teasing always made him laugh.   
Then they were there. Beast in sight. But Ginger tried a different tack, quoting books and foolhardy plans. Fear seized him for his hijo as he charged away before he could stop him.

Then hell broke loose. Old fighting style of fist and sword didn't seem to take effect.  
After hitting the dust and being buried under rocks a new tactic was needed.   
Then it hit, with the same force as earlier fountain blasts.   
He actually understood this time around as his mind sharpened. He opens his mouth with a smile, understanding "Release."

Cane in hand again, old wood smooth against palm, no longer a chain; but a friend.  
He was on his way, mind bursting with fire and eyes sparking. In the saddle instead of sagging.  
His bones may creak but while he still had breath in his lungs and wit in his mind-

He still had a story to tell, and he was going to make it the best.

**Author's Note:**

> I had fun writing this one, remember if you like one of my pieces feel free to review or request one below and I will see if it takes my fancy. Until then, adios!


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